


A walk down memory lane

by PoemAboutCitylights



Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: Brocedes being the mess they've always been, Emotional pain, Eventual Comfort, Fluff, Friends to Enemies to Lovers, M/M, stupid boys in love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-04
Updated: 2018-10-06
Packaged: 2019-07-25 06:24:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16191893
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PoemAboutCitylights/pseuds/PoemAboutCitylights
Summary: Lewis eventually agrees to an interview hosted by Nico where they are supposed to talk about Lewis' career milestones based on photographs.But when they come across pictures from their past, things start to change.// Lewis is still racing and Nico now works for TV, set in 2018





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Rated "explicit" for what might follow in the next chapter(s).

It had taken Nico longer than he would ever be proud of to realize what exactly it was that sent his nerves flying and his heart racing whenever he had set foot onto a circuit after his retirement.  
He hadn't understood it, as he had been sure that stepping down and ending his career as a driver had been the right decision at that point of his journey.  
He had been convinced that there had to be more to life than the pressure of the paddock, more than the constant fear of not meeting the high expectations everyone had seemed to place in him.  
The fear of being unable to lift the weights from his shoulders.  
So when he had been asked whether he missed racing, it had not been a lie when he had shaken his head with a polite smile.  
He had meant it, he truly had.  
And yet-...  
And yet there had been that nudging _something_ on the edge of his mind when he would stroll down the pit lane, in his casual clothes and not a racing suit, keeping him on edge, his toes twitching in his shoes, fingers curling around the fabric of his jacket's pockets.  
So Nico had brushed it off, had told himself to get a grip and move on with his life, as he had always done.  
He did not want to be back in one of the cars, focused on nothing but being faster, stronger, smarter.  
He had been tired of the constant competition, worn out by the sport he had once loved so much.  
And things were, well, fine, when he took a break from the Formula 1 circus in general, focusing on his start ups and the Formula E.  
But then the TV offers had come and he hadn't been able to refuse - he loved the sport too much to do so, as he had started to miss the sound of the engines, the smell of the tires.  
  
It had been easy not to think of Lewis when he had been away.  
They had been best friends back then and didn't like each other anymore now, so what?  
Was he supposed to cry into his pillow at night because of it?  
That kind of stuff happened, they had grown up and yeah, it was bitter, but Nico could deal with it.  
It wasn't like the world was ending just because their friendship hadn't survived being in the same team.  
Whatever. He was fine with it.  
  
Only that was a lie.  
He had known it when he had first met Lewis in the pit lane after coming back for his job with German television, had known in that exact moment when Lewis had turned his back on him, shoulders tensed, avoiding his gaze for the life of him.  
It had hit Nico like a truck.  
He hadn't been sure what he had been expecting, maybe he had thought their rivalry would be over for good.  
He hadn't been delusional enough to believe that they would be able to pick up where they had left off before 2014.  
Lewis was too sensitive to ever forget the words Nico had spat at him, too proud to get over all the times he had shut the Brit out.  
But time had passed and Nico wasn’t the same person he had been back at that time.  
Was Lewis still the same?  
That was actually too hard to tell, for Nico got the impression that he had never really known his former team mate at all.  
He was aware that all the lovey-dovey bullshit Lewis put on with Valtteri could not be compared to how things had been between the two of them.  
The only reason why Lewis and Val got along was that Lewis was dominating the Finn without having to put too much work into it.  
Sure, Bottas was a great guy and Nico was sure that getting along with him was easy. But he also knew Lewis and Lewis was anything _but_ easy.  
And then again, maybe getting along with the Brit _was_ easy.  
Nico found himself at a point where he couldn’t tell anymore.  
Couldn’t tell if he had seen Lewis for who he really was, if their rivalry had brought out the truth in both of them… or if it had actually done the opposite, if they had shut each other out, pretending to stand for something they really weren’t.

In a way, Nico had hoped that he would at least have the chance to talk to his former team mate at some point during the off season. If not in private then as the TV expert he now was.  
When Lewis’ management informed his broadcasting company RTL that Lewis had refused to interact with him in any way, Nico could not say that he was surprised.  
He had felt a sharp sting in his chest, though.  
However, things kind of changed throughout the season and it was in Hockenheim that Nico eventually got to say a few words to Lewis, congratulating him on the outstanding driving he had once again showed that day.  
It wasn’t much but it had been honest and Lewis had accepted his congratulations with a small smile.  
That the Brit had followed him on Instagram just a day later had had to mean something, hadn’t it?  
  
And then, out of nowhere, he had been pulled aside by the RTL production manager.  
“Do you think you can spare some extra time on Wednesday?” he had been asked and he had frowned, not quite knowing where this was heading.  
“Sure, what for?”  
“We sent Hamilton’s management another request. For that interview we had planned for you two a couple of months ago, you remember? When Hamilton refused?”  
Yes, Nico _did_ remember, because had he been in Lewis’ position, he would have surely declined the request as well.  
RTL had planned to film an interview with Lewis that would focus on his career milestones, now that his next title was in such short reach, going through photos and video footage.  
“No way he said yes.”  
“I guess it’s your lucky day,” was all that Nico had been told, a portfolio containing a USB device and dozens of pictures being shoved into his hand, “we’ll text you the where- and when’s.”  
  
And that was the reason behind why he was right now nervously pacing through the room that suddenly felt way too small, even though it was actually quite the opposite.  
They were in one of the media trailers that were stuffed with different interview spots, including a few leathery couches and seatings.  
A few meters away, Daniel was currently talking to Channel 4 and Sebastian and Kimi were doing a doubles interview with an Italian broadcaster next to them.  
For his own interview, Nico had decided to sit down on a couch, the pictures he had chosen spread on a small table in front of it.  
He clutched the iPad, he’d show Lewis some video footage on, tightly and tried to keep his breathing as flat as possible, catching the curious gaze of his camera man.  
He was well aware that every one of the RTL team as well as some of the drivers were thinking of this interview as a “showdown”.  
News that Lewis had agreed to talk about his career milestones with Nico had spread quickly in the pit lane.  
At some point, Nico had even considered that the only reason why Lewis had agreed to meet up with him was to rub his victories and upcoming titles right into the German’s face.  
But he had quickly accepted that he was probably just overreacting and being paranoid.  
Along with that had come the realization that the worst possible outcome wasn’t that Lewis was trying to bum him out but that Lewis had agreed to the interview because he really didn’t care about their rivalry any more, that he had gotten over it.  
Because Nico surely hadn’t.  
The rivalry had been what Nico had known, what he had been used to. It had given a certain kind of safety and it had… settled things.  
When the door of the trailer opened up, there was no more time for overthinking, whatsoever.  
  
Lewis was wearing a white Mercedes shirt and a denim jacket on top, along with his pink Monaco edition cap and pants from his collaboration with Tommy Hilfiger (not that Nico knew every piece of it).  
As usual, the Brit was wearing dark sunglasses that made it hard for Nico to guess what he was thinking, and he had brought Angela along.  
He tried to read the older one’s face, though, and failed.  
Lewis crossed the trailer with slow steps, almost making a show out of it, while Nico realized that all heads had turned into their direction, including Dan and the two Ferraris.  
The German then realized that he was the one supposed to make the first step, as host of the interview, and stepped forward, extending a hand.  
Lewis took it without any kind of hesitation and his handshake was short but firm, not a single muscle of his face moving.  
“So,” Nico said and his voice sounded hoarse, his throat feeling way too dry, “thank you for coming here.”  
Lewis simply nodded, his stupid glasses still making it impossible to read anything into the gesture.  
Nico coughed to clear his throat and pointed towards the couch.  
“Sit down?”  
Lewis did so, immediately making himself comfortable by leaning back against the rest.  
Nico had to swallow once again and picked up some of the cards he had prepared.  
“Hey, Lewis,” his camera man suddenly said, “would you take of the glasses? They reflect the surroundings and-…”  
A wide smile suddenly appeared on the Brit’s face, “No problem, man.”  
“Better?” he asked once he had removed the sunglasses.  
Nico caught himself drawing in a sharp breath, which he covered up with another fake cough.  
  
Lewis had always had the kind of eyes that hid away nothing.  
Which made it even weirder now that Nico still couldn’t read anything in them, as if Lewis had locked up all of his emotions.  
He felt it in his guts when he realized that Lewis had put on his _media face_.  
_So that’s what we’ve become?_  
“Are we starting any time soon?” Lewis eventually asked, the ankle of his right leg resting on top of his left knee, “I don’t wanna put pressure on you, man, but we’ve got a few other appointments later.”  
“Yes!” Nico snapped.  
“Yes,” he repeated, a little more quiet and couldn’t do much but hope that the heat that he felt spreading through his body wouldn’t show on his face as a blush.  
The last thing he’d need right now was to blush in front of Lewis fucking Hamilton like a goddamn 20-years-old reporter.  
He grabbed the first picture he had prepared and held it into the camera, showing it to Lewis afterwards.  
“Please tell us something about that moment. What do you remember from it?”  
A smile was appearing on Lewis’ lips now and Nico witnessed how he was slowly letting down his guard.  
“Canada, 2007. My first win.”  
One of Lewis’ hands was sneaking into the Brit’s neck, scratching the skin while a loose smile was playing on his lips.  
“Man, that was a crazy race.”  
Nico nodded, “Four safety cars. And it was only your sixth race.”  
“Yeah,” Lewis grinned, “crazy as I said. I knew I could do it. But there’s a huge difference between just believing in yourself and then actually doing it.”  
“I believe it was very emotional for you.”  
“Sure it was. For my whole family.”  
Nico thought he saw Lewis’ face shutting down when he mentioned his family and the German suspected that the world champion was for some reason uncomfortable speaking about his family in front of him.  
He still remembered the video Lewis had posted a few months earlier. The one where he had told the world that he only trusted his family and no one else.  
It had hit too close to home.  
“Was it your best win?”  
Lewis shrugged his shoulders, apparently relaxing at the harmless question.  
“I don’t think it was. There have been even crazier races and more spectacular wins, but I treasure that memory. Yeah, it’s a good one.”  
Lewis seemed to be caught up in that memory for a second and Nico took the time to get the next photograph.  
It showed Lewis on top of another podium.  
“Silverstone 2008. My first win at home.”  
He asked the Mercedes driver a few questions about how that had felt, what the first of many home wins had meant to him and so on.  
From that, they went on to the Brazilian GP in the same year – where Lewis had won his first championship title.  
It was when Nico picked up the next picture that he first started to regret agreeing to do the interview with Lewis.  
And he wasn’t sure whether he actually heard Lewis suck in a sharp breath, but he certainly didn’t imagine how the Brit stiffened up next to him.  
“Our first race as teammates,” Lewis said and Nico did not have to look up at the driver to know that he was frowning.  
“Yeah,” he answered because he couldn’t think of anything else to say.  
“Kind of stupid to put that picture in there,” Lewis then said and it made Nico’s gaze snap up.  
“Sorry,” the Brit added, “you can cut that out, right?”  
“I-I guess,” Nico answered, startled by the older one’s reply.  
“You’re blushing,” Lewis chuckled and Nico’s insides froze.  
A soft laugh dropped from the Brit’s lips, “Why are you blushing, Britney?”  
“Don’t call me that,” the German snapped and Lewis grinned widely.  
“Whatever you wish, _Britney_.”  
Nico felt his cheeks burning by now and looked at his team, “Cut that.”  
While he was reaching for the iPad, he felt Lewis’ amused glance on his back.  
With slightly trembling fingers, which he tried to hide from the older one as good as possible, he started the video that showed him and Lewis crashing in Barcelona.  
“Ahh,” Lewis made and he actually sounded entertained, “such a _great_ milestone of my career, I have to say.”  
His voice was dripping with sarcasm and at the same time, it sounded like he was suppressing a giggle.  
“Lewis…” Nico heard himself growl and the Brit blinked twice.  
“Yes?”  
“Let’s just be serious here, okay? Get it over as fast as possible.”  
He could see that Lewis was biting back a snarky reply but media-Lewis eventually won over and he let out something that sounded like a low groan.  
“Fine.”  
So then they spoke about the accident and a few other races and poles where Lewis had shown his full talent.  
It was safe terrain, as Nico had explained to Hulk earlier, when they had talked about the interview.  
And he had been right, as expected, Lewis had been asked about his career milestones so often that he probably knew all the answers to Nico’s questions already, making it easy for Nico to keep him talking while keeping his own input to a minimum.  
They ended with pictures of the 2018 season and Nico had Lewis repeat once again what a _great_ teammate Valtteri was and Nico didn’t miss the way Lewis looked at him when he said that _not many_ teammates would have done that for each other.  
“A true friendship, then,” Nico had said and had probably sounded so bitter that they’d have to cut it out later.  
Lewis had just smiled through his comment.  
When it was time, they both got up at the same time and Lewis was the first one to extend a hand this time.  
Nico suddenly felt uncomfortable under the Brit’s gaze.  
“Thanks for your time,” he said and took his former teammate’s hand.  
“You’re welcome,” Lewis answered and the German couldn’t really tell if he meant it.  
For a few seconds, their eyes met and Nico tried to read in them, tried to find some truth in their dark depth but he couldn’t find anything in them.  
Neither a spark of the intimate friendship they had once shared nor a hint of their equally intense rivalry.  
  
Lewis had already almost turned around when the Brit stepped back jumpily, looking down at the table covered in photographs.  
The Mercedes driver’s eyes had widened, surprise and something else mixing up on his face.  
Nico followed the older one’s gaze and found him staring at a picture that had been taken in Australia 2008.  
Nico recognized it instantly because he, too, had been staring at it earlier.  
Had been staring and staring, had stared for so long that he had eventually felt like he could still feel Lewis’ arms around his body, drawing him in until they had been embracing each other while Lewis had sobbed into his ear, the joy of sharing an F1 podium for the first time in their careers erasing every other thought.


	2. Chapter 2

Six days had passed since he had agreed to do that interview with Nico, four days had passed since it then had actually taken place and Lewis had regretted it ever since.  
He had been convinced that he’d be able to play it cool, maybe throw Nico off balance by doing so, and it had actually worked out quite well until there had been that one photograph of their first shared podium in 2008.  
It had shaken him to the core and he hadn’t been able to stop staring at it, feeling Nico’s gaze on him through all of it.  
Nico had shot him one of these glances, which he had never been able to interpreted and therefore hated.  
Digging his nails deep into the skin of his wrist, Lewis had then fled from the situation and had been avoiding the German throughout the rest of the week.  
Qualifying had been a little too tight for his taste but now the only thing that counted was that it had been a clean start-finish-win for him today and yes, _maybe_ he was a little bit tipsy, and _maybe_ he had had a little too much of the champagne. But holy fuck, Lewis was downright freaking out over it by now.  
What had he been thinking?  
He had been avoiding the German for so long that even having to see him in the paddock on race days had been manageable.  
Not for a single second would he have thought that Nico would still have such power over him. That he’d make him feel like a worthless piece of trash all over again, without saying a single word, just by showing him that goddamn photograph from when things had been so very different between the two of them.  
He had forgotten how to deal with this whole Nico-thing over the past two years, so where was all this now coming from?  
He tried to keep a polite smile up throughout the whole elevator ride up to his floor, covering up the internal crisis he was currently facing.  
“You good?” Toto asked, his face way too concerned, as always, and the Brit forced himself to nod.  
Stumbling out of the elevator, his shoulder hit the wall painfully.  
“Whoa. I don’t recall drinking that much.”  
“Watch out, then. See you tomorrow!” Toto called after him before the doors slid close again without making a sound.  
“See you!” Lewis called back but knew that his boss was out of reach all ready.  
With a heavy sigh dropping from his lips, Lewis leaned back against the beige wall and covered his face with his hands, closing his eyes for just a second.  
He really shouldn’t have drunken that much and he really, really shouldn’t have seen Nico for that stupid-ass interview.  
Hell, he had even been dreaming of that fucker for the past days straight.  
His head fell back against the wall and Lewis stared right into the lamp above him, until the bright light made him see dazzling spots everywhere.  
His gaze wandered down the corridor, mentally walking around that corner, down the hallway.  
Maybe he should go and talk to him.  
Sort out that shit all and for real.  
Tell Nico to fuck off and stay the hell away from him.  
“Yeah,” Lewis whispered to himself, his feet setting into motion, each of his steps swallowed up by a thick carpet, “I’ll just tell him to fuck off.”

Nico opened up the door to his room right after the first knock.  
_How typical._    
“Hey.”  
Nico blinked. Once, twice and then a third time, his lips parting as if he was about to say something without being able to spit it out.  
“Ehm. Hi,” the German eventually said and Lewis pushed past him without asking him for permission, the alcohol running in his veins probably doing the talking.  
“Ehm,” Nico said again and Lewis didn’t bother turning around to face him. Instead, he let his eyes wander through the room that was so much neater than his, Nico’s clothes probably hidden away by the closets and not piling up on the couches.  
It granted Lewis some sort of satisfaction, though, that the German’s room was way smaller than his.  
“What are you doing here?” the younger one asked right then and Lewis eventually did turn around, eyes running up and down the German.  
A smirk was slowly forming on his lips and he had to suppress a hiccup (damn champagne), when he tilted his head.  
“I’m here to tell you to fuck off.”  
“You…what?”  
Lewis didn’t miss how Nico closed the hotel door and stepped back into the room.  
“ _Fuck. Off_.”  
When Nico came closer, Lewis backed off until the back of his legs hit the edge of the German’s bed.  
He let himself fall down onto it and sat up straight.  
“I want you to fuck off,” now he wasn’t able to hold back a hiccup that shook his whole chest, “you don’t have a place in F1 anymore.”  
Nico narrowed his brows and his hand found a way onto his own hip, annoyance lighting up in his bright eyes, “Guess what, Lewis. This is part of my job.”  
“Then fucking quit,” Lewis felt anger rising in his blood and he raised his voice without realizing he was doing so, “it’s always been so easy for you to quit.”  
“Whoa,” Nico made and raised his hands, before crossing his arms in front of his chest, “is this about our interview?”  
“Of course it’s not!” Lewis snapped and snorted. Another hiccup shook his chest.  
“Wait,” Nico then said and came another step closer, “are you drunk?”  
“I’ve won the bloody race. Of course I’m drunk.”  
“Right. Sorry I forgot that’s just how you do it.”  
Lewis ignored Nico’s comment and got back up, heading straight for Nico’s mini bar.  
“May I?” he asked but didn’t wait for his former team mate’s response.  
He fetched a bottle of whisky out of it and held it into the light.  
Nico sighed and when Lewis turned around to look at him, he found the German leaning back against a chest of drawers, watching him with curiosity and something else that his drunken brain couldn’t identify.  
“Don’t you think you’ve had enough, already?”  
Lewis shook his head, shrugging his shoulders, “I’ve got a whole week off.”  
He poured some of the golden liquor into a glass and then handed it to the German.  
“Drink.”  
“I don’t drink.”  
Lewis scoffed.  
“Bullshit.”  
And then there it was again, that sound sounding like a sigh.  
When Nico eventually took the glass, he downed the whole glass of Single Malt in a rush. It made Lewis chuckle.  
The Brit took a gulp straight from the bottle.  
It didn’t escape his notice that Nico was still watching him closely.  
“Pass it to me,” the German mumbled and he poured himself another drink. For a couple of seconds, they were simply staring at each other, probably both of them trying to read something in the other one’s face.  
Lewis, for his part, was failing miserably. He had never been able to read anything in the younger one. Maybe another sip of the Single Malt would do.  
Feeling tipsy, he walked back to Nico’s bed, which looked way cosier than the single leathery armchair standing by the window, and sat down on the edge of it.  
“Yeah, just make yourself comfortable.”  
The sarcasm in Nico’s voice was evident but Lewis just grinned through it and took another sip of the whisky.  
“I think you’ve had enough,” the German commented and snatched the bottle out of the older one’s hands.  
“Don’t drink up all my whisky.”  
“Want to have it all for yourself?” Lewis asked and realized in horror that he started to slur. Only that he was drunk, which meant that he really didn’t care all that much.  
“Exactly,” Nico groaned, “and now I want to know why you’re here.”  
“I told you already.”  
“No, you just said that you want me to fuck off. Which, I’m sorry, I won’t do. Obviously.”  
His eyes darkened, “I mean, go and fuck off yourself.”  
“I’m not the quitter of us two.”  
Nico stared right back at him and Lewis held his gaze until Nico turned away and groaned.  
“Of course you’d get back to that.”  
“Just facts,” Lewis added and suddenly wasn’t sure why he was grinning.  
Nico definitely wasn’t and the Brit started to wonder why the younger one hadn’t thrown him out already. It would have been a lie to say that he wasn’t surprised when Nico took a long sip from the bottle of Single Malt, not even bothering to pour it into his glass.  
“I didn’t _quit_.”  
“Yeah, sorry, my fault,” Lewis snorted and blinked a few times, the room starting to spin in front of his eyes  
He tilted his head and looked at Nico.  
At the way some strands of blond hair was falling into his face and how he was clutching the whisky with one hand, the other one covering his eyes.  
Right then, it was almost impossible to imagine that this Nico was the same person that had initiated all the psycho games back then. The same Nico that had incited Lewis’ own mechanics against him, that had just stopped talking to him in the middle of a season without explaining _anything_ to him.  
The same Nico that had told him with a shrug of his shoulders and without a blink that they had never really been friends anyway, that Lewis couldn’t ask a friendship of him while they were driving the same car.  
But this _was_ the same Nico, this _was_ the same person that had taken advantage of his trust to later use it against him in the 2016 season. The person that had betrayed him in the worst possible way by making him believe that Nico was his friend, someone he could trust.  
Lewis suddenly felt a wave of anger rush through him and he pointed at one of Nico’s bags.  
“The pictures. Are they in there?”  
Nico frowned for a moment, until realization appeared on his face.  
“So this is what all this is about? Of course it is.”  
“So are they in there? Give them to me,” the Brit snapped and shot Nico a threatening glance. Nico looked right back at him.  
“They’re not.”  
And then he got up and opened a drawer, throwing padded envelope.  
Lewis, being way too drunk at that point to coordinate his limps, missed it and had to reach out for it.  
Feeling all the anger boiling up, he ripped open the paper and spread the pictures on Nico’s white and crispy sheets.  
“You wanna talk career milestones? Fine.”  
Kind of furious, he searched the photographs and eventually picked out one, feeling how his pulse was picking up pace caused by his rage.  
He threw back one of the pictures at Nico.  
“Remember that race? You had a DNF and I won and then you didn’t say single word to me for a whole fucking week, you prick.”  
He grabbed another one and simultaneously reached for the Single Malt. The whisky burned its way down to his stomach but it was a rather pleasant feeling by now.  
“And this one?”  
“Abu Dhabi 2015.”  
“I’m glad you even remember. Given that you laughed in my face when I said that our friendship should be stronger than a sport’s rivalry.”  
When Lewis looked up, Nico’s gaze was fixed on the photograph in his hands and he couldn’t tell if it was the kind of look that said he was sorry or that he really didn’t care at all.  
“And remember what you said afterwards?” he was speaking too fast now, due to the alcohol and his emotions but just went with it.  
“I do,” Nico answered and eventually looked up, “you don’t have to repeat it.”  
Nico closed his eyes for a moment. Then he took the bottle out of Lewis’ hands and drank from it.  
The younger one’s gaze seemed unfocused by now, his parted lips wetted by the alcohol.  
When Nico’s fingers brushed over the Barcelona-picture, the both of them remained silent.  
Ultimately, Lewis’ hand reached out to pick up another photo, which made him swallow hard, tasting the liquor.  
“What-… what’s that from?” Nico asked, the German apparently having troubles to form proper sentences.  
Lewis’ gaze snapped up, “Wasn’t it your job to get prepared?”  
He then looked at the picture of him and Sebastian again.  
“That’s Australia 2017,” he explained, his voice trembling, “my first race without you, shithead.”  
Nico didn’t say anything but he was inhaling through his mouth, more soft blond hair now falling into his face.  
Lewis felt so on-edge that he probably could have punched Nico right into his stupid face. Going with the look in the German’s eyes, he was probably thinking the same.  
And Lewis’ drunken brain already expected to take a hit, so when Nico moved, the Brit was ready to shove him away.  
Only that Nico hadn’t aimed to punch him.  
Instead, the German had placed a hand on Lewis back, pulling him under him and holding himself up on an elbow, while the other hand had gone straight to his neck, his thumb pressing into that spot between the older one’s shoulder and collarbone. Was he trying to choke him to death?  
It took Lewis a couple of seconds to realize that Nico was kissing him, took him a while to actually feel the younger one’s lips moving against his, their chests now lined up and touching.

**Author's Note:**

> So RTL apparently did an interview with Lewis where they did just that and as Nico is working for them, I had to ask myself how things might have gone if Nico had been the host.  
> Plus, I'm a sucker for brocedes anytime. 
> 
> If you liked this, please leave kudos/ a comment, it will certainly help me write the next chapter sooon.


End file.
